Roads Unwalked - horror

The night was heavy with rain, the kind that muffled sound and blurred vision. Anna pulled her jacket tighter as she walked the winding back road through the forest. Her car had broken down miles back, and her phone battery had died hours before. She had grabbed a flashlight from her trunk and started heading towards the next town. She told herself it wasn’t that far. Just keep walking.

The first time she saw it, she thought it was a deer.

It stood a few yards ahead, just on the edge of the road, half-shrouded by the trees. Its antlers glistened in the rain, and its sleek body was lit faintly by her flashlight beam.

She stopped, her breath hitching. She’d grown up in the countryside and knew better than to spook wildlife, especially in the dark. Slowly, she lowered the beam, letting it skim the ground.

But the deer didn’t move.

As she stared, something prickled in the back of her mind. Raising her flashlight, She gave the deer another glance. Its head was tilted in a way that felt too deliberate. Its legs were unnaturally thin, long enough to cast distorted shadows against the mist. The rain slid off its fur in rivulets, but the fur didn’t look wet—it looked slick.

It didn’t blink.

Anna took a step back, her boots crunching against wet gravel. The sound echoed louder than it should have. The thing’s head twitched, just slightly, and it turned its gaze toward her.

Its eyes… weren’t right. They were glassy, dead, but there was something alive about them. Something watching her, thinking.

She didn’t realize she was holding her breath until her chest burned. Her instincts screamed, Don’t look away.

She took another step back, and the creature moved.

Not toward her. Not away. Just a single, deliberate shift of its body that made her stomach churn. Even the way it moved was wrong, as though its joints bent in directions they shouldn’t.

The thing then took a step. Then another. And another.

Anna turned and ran.

Her flashlight beam bounced wildly, illuminating nothing but rain and empty road. She told herself not to look back. If she looked back, she’d lose her nerve.

The sound of hooves—or something like hooves—clattered behind her. Too fast. Too close.

She darted off the road into the woods, hoping the dense trees would slow it down. Her lungs screamed, and her legs burned, but she didn’t stop until she stumbled into a clearing.

That’s when she saw it again.

It was ahead of her now, standing perfectly still in the center of the clearing.

This time, she could see it clearly.

The antlers weren’t antlers—they were jagged and fractured, jutting from its head like broken bones. Its legs were impossibly long, bending backward at unnatural angles. The slickness of its coat was wrong, too. It shimmered, like wet tar, glinting faintly under the moonlight.

But its face… its face was still almost a deer.

Almost.

The skin sagged in places, pulled tight in others. Its jaw hung slightly open, revealing jagged teeth that no deer should have. And its eyes—human eyes—locked onto hers.

It grinned.

She staggered back, tripping over roots and landing hard on the wet ground. The thing moved closer, slowly this time, as if savoring the moment.

Anna scrambled backward, her heart pounding, her breath coming in panicked gasps.

“What do you want?” she whispered.

The thing tilted its head, as though considering her question.

Then it spoke, deep and human-like.

“What do you think?”

It lunged.

The next morning, the search party found her car, still sitting by the roadside. The forest was searched, but Anna was never found.

Sometimes, hikers claim to see a deer in those woods.

At first glance, it looks normal enough. But if you stare too long, you’ll notice something wrong. The way its legs move. The glint of its eyes. The way it watches you as if it knows something you don’t.

And if you hear it speak, run.